We aren’t like some of your readers, we’re regular people. We don’t have a fancy dungeon all fitted out in the basement, and we don’t have a lot of fancy costumes in leather and lace. Instead we live in a slightly rundown suburb, in a house that’s what real estate agents would call “a fixer-upper.” My wife is no swaggering dominatrix, and I haven’t had any kind of surgery, so I don’t have huge breasts and I don’t look like a beautiful young girl.

But we hope maybe you will print our letter because your magazine may have saved our marriage.
I can’t say I’ve been the best husband. I thought as a man, I should get my way. I thought as a man I made the decisions and my wife was to follow them. Maybe I didn’t pay enough attention to her needs or appreciate the work she did. Anyway, I can’t say we’d been close in years, and I can’t say our sex life had been much. Maybe I hadn’t been sensitive to her feelings there either.
Since I wasn’t “getting any,” I’d sometimes buy different kinds of “adult” publications and play with myself. I must say, when I found yours it gave me quite a charge. Something abut the idea of being forced to give up the male role and experience life as a woman must have appealed to me. I guess I must have accidentally left it out on purpose, maybe I hoped I would get caught, maybe punished for having it by being forced to be a woman. Just like in your book.
Well, my wife discovered it all right. And she says that was about the end of our marriage right there. But she’d been taking a literature course at the local community college, and they’d discussed deSade one week, so she was curious and took a look inside. At first she was furious that I would have something that blatantly sexual in my possession. But then, she says, she began to picture what it would be like to have me waiting on her hand and foot instead of the other way around, and to see me wobbling around in high heels and having to go through the bother of make-up, grooming and dress she’d been going through. And she especially liked the idea of having me under control in a chastity device.
To make a long story short. There is zing in our marriage and zing in our sex life, and we are both closer together and have let down more of our emotional defenses with each other, than in a long, long time.
I am typing this with long red acrylic nails (difficult, I tell you). I have bracelets on each wrist and rings gleam on each finger. I am wearing a fluffy pastel blue angora sweater, and the kind of plain black skirt that goes with anything. My knees and legs are sheathed in pantihose, and my toes are pointed down, my heels held three inches in the air by plain black pumps.
My job is to please my wife in bed now, and to hold back until I am sure I have. Even then I may not be allowed to come if I haven’t pleased her sufficiently.
When I am too talkative or talk back, “get uppity,” she calls it, she gags me. She also turns me over her knee, draws down my feminine drawers and paddles me when I haven’t done as good a job as she wanted or what she considers “misbehaved.” We have been saving up for one of those Frenum Chastity devices you sell.
Enclosed please find our check for the FL8 Frenum model.
Sincerely,
A Husband-Slave
PS. I wonder if what happened to us could help any other couples out there.

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